Heart & Hope (Rosewood Ranch #2)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

RUBY

R eed has my head all fucked up. My rules are fading from black-and-white to greyer by the minute. And holy hell, if Mary-Sue gets wind of his real name... I can’t even think about that now.

The drive home is mostly quiet. The food, we eat on the way, not wanting it to go cold. And I take great pleasure in feeding him fries as he drives. He snaps one from my fingers before he returns the affection with cheeky smiles as we fly down the dirt road toward his ranch.

Reed rolls the truck into the barn as I yawn. It’s been a busy day. And it’s not over yet; I want to run some things past him and work on the website and booking system before bed.

But Lord, I could use a glass of wine.

Red.

Even better, Merlot.

My door opens, and I realize I’ve been staring into the abyss, thinking. I start and suck in a breath as I turn to Reed. His hands are held up like he’s going to carry me from the truck.

“I got it, Reedsy.” I grab up my bag and handbag, stepping out of the truck. The seats are so comfortable, I almost fell asleep. Luckily for this gorgeous man, his ravenous hunger kept me occupied. On tired legs, I teeter toward him, and he catches me in a warm hug.

When his face sinks into my hair and he tightens his grip, I stiffen, my rules heading for a full-out brawl with my heart. Never before have they been so much at war as they are now.

“Want me to carry you to bed, Rubes?” he breathes, face still buried in my hair.

I push out of his hold with a chuckle. “No thanks, I can walk.”

His face falls a little, but he takes my bags and leads me to the house yard. The air is cool, the smell of hay and the mountain air mixing into a heady concoction. The stars out are magnificent. The blanket of shimmering silver points hangs low, like somehow, we are closer to heaven.

I follow close behind, not wanting to trip on the pavers as we head up to the dark house. No Mack here this time. And part of me is thrilled to be here with Reed. The rational part of me is screaming for my heart to let it go. To keep things cemented in the friend zone.

That thought makes me feel a loss like I’ve never felt before.

Not having the chance to have more of the only man that has ever wanted me for me, and not my bank account or status, is completely unfair. But the way things are, they’re that way for a reason. For me. For my success. A success that has been the only thing I can ever remember wanting, my entire adult life.

The door creaks open and Reed flips the lights on with one hand, my bags dangling from the other. I step inside and take in the small farmhouse. I’ve been here before, but never at night and never to stay. And I can’t fight the feeling of how right it feels. How cozy and grounding this place is.

“Let’s get your bags squared away, and I can pour you some wine, baby.” Reed walks up the stairs and to the right, and I follow a step behind. He drops my bags on the end of the bed and pads to the antique-looking wardrobe on the inside wall by the door. Pulling out two towels, he pops them on top of my bag. “That should keep you dry.”

The towels are all of a sudden fascinating. As if thinking about the many meanings of what that sentence could mean for us. “Thanks.”

“See you downstairs for a drink?”

“Sure,” I say, turning to face him, hands in my back pockets. “Okay if I take a shower and slip into my PJs first?”

“Yup. Red or white?”

“Um...” I worry my bottom lip through my teeth. “Whatever you choose.”

He nods and pats the doorframe as he walks out and back down the stairs. I wander about the room, taking in the simple farmhouse decor, cottage-style furniture, and soft furnishings. Something unwinds in my chest, and I sink onto the upholstered chair by the window. It’s plush and way too good at coaxing my eyes shut. I snap up out of it and stand to tug the zip on my bag, before hunting for fresh lingerie and my shorts and singlet PJs. On second thought, it may get cool tonight.

I pluck out a t-shirt instead. A worn-out red one from an old cruise I went on years ago with faded Captain’s Choice in white marine-type font set over an even more faded ship’s wheel.

After a quick but hot shower, I pull on my PJs and head downstairs, drying my hair with a towel. The hardwood floor under my bare feet is cool but so good. Reed is in the kitchen, chopping something on a board. Two glasses sit out, a wine glass and a shorter tumbler. His glass has an inch of amber liquid. He lifts it to his mouth, drawing a sip before setting it down. I lean against the doorway, drying the ends of my hair, taking him in.

He looks good in a home of his own. His rolled-up work shirt and jeans have been exchanged for blue boxers and a navy shirt. His hair is wet. Wow, he’s fast. I hang the towel on the end post of the stairs and clear my throat. He spins back, knife in hand. So much like his ma. She always has a kitchen utensil of some kind in her hand.

“Hey,” I breathe.

His cheeky grin that grows instantly when he sees me, fades to parted lips and a fixed stare on my chest. No, my shirt. He’s reading it.

“Hey,” he finally chokes out. He puts the knife down and heads to the cupboard. He grabs a bottle of red and pours me a glass. “Sofa, beautiful.”

I do as instructed and flop onto the sofa. The fire is already on, despite it not being cold enough for one. But it warms my tired body, and I stretch out as he hands the wine glass to me.

“Ma sent over some of your Merlot from the party,” he says softly, as my fingers curl around the stem.

“Oh wow. Tell her thanks. Actually, never mind, I’ll text her in the morning.”

He sinks onto the couch beside me. With a sip from his tumbler, he stares into the fire. “You two get along well.”

The flames dance, their proximity tangling around one another. Like lovers in a never-ending waltz that mesmerizes. “I guess we do. She’s different to my own mother. Much warmer.”

“I know she loves having you here.”

I push a small smile over my lips before tasting the red. It’s floral and warm and delicious. I close my eyes and lay my head back on the sofa. I take a second to breathe through the warmth that lingers in my core, not a hundred percent sure it’s the wine.

“I’ve never had a woman like Lou in my life. Not Olive, not my mother.”

Reed moves closer and puts his tumbler down on the small coffee table between us and the fireplace. His palms are on my face, my eyes directed up to his. “That, Ruby Robbins, is a crying shame. You deserve that.”

I huff a laugh, breaking the eye contact. “Thanks, but I’m used to it.”

He is shaking his head, eyes pulled tight. “Nope, that’s not acceptable. I officially give you Ma, for whatever you need.”

Now I chuckle and wrap my hands around his and then slip them from my face. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the most thoughtful, sweetest guy on this earth?”

“Not lately.” He winks.

I roll my eyes at him and rub a thumb over his jaw. His gaze drops to my lips. The oxygen in the room is suddenly too thin. “Reed.”

He stays where he is. His jaw feathers for a moment before he rises from the sofa and pads to the kitchen. Returning, he brings a tray of chopped vegetables and cheese. It’s perfect.

“You think of everything.”

He sits down, putting the food in between us. “I told you, Rubes. I like taking care of you.”

“You’re going to make an amazing holiday ranch host, Reed.”

He forces a smile. I jump to my feet and dash upstairs, grabbing my laptop. Back downstairs, I sit on my spot on the sofa and flip it open. “So, I have made a website and embedded the booking system. It needs some finishing touches and your approval.”

He moves the tray and slides over, our knees touching. Shoulders rubbing, I show him the site. “Of course, if you’re not happy, with color scheme, theme, anything, I can change it. Here is where people come when they first click onto it.”

His hand brushes my hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. “Sorry, can’t see,” he rasps.

Hand frozen on the trackpad, I swallow down the stone that rose with his touch.

“What else do you want to show me, baby?”

“I—” I swallow. “The gallery and the accommodations page, which are still empty by the way. What did you decide about the cabins?”

He leans back on the couch. “Yeah, we’ll be building those ourselves. I have to ask Huddo, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Excellent, what time frame do you think? Will we make the fall opening as planned?”

“Listen to you, getting all event planner, business manager on me. Yes, Ruby, we will meet your deadline. Thanksgiving weekend.”

“They’re your deadlines, Rawlins.”

He laughs, nodding. “Yes, they are.”

When his gaze lands on me, it melts from humor to something deeper, something I’ve never seen in him. But when the air shrinks from my lungs and my gut flips, I have to rub a hand over my face to reset my heart back to something viable for life. Not the rapid flinging rhythm it’s taken up.

“I should...” I drag my focus back to the screen. “I should finish this before bed.”

He smiles and nods, plucking a carrot from the board, snapping it between his teeth. Carrot and whiskey. I huff a laugh at this amazing man and settle in to work.

When my eyelids become heavy and start their descent, I turn the brightness down a little. A yawn later, I close the machine and place it on the coffee table, taking to studying the flames, now smaller and a darker shade of amber.

Reed putters around the kitchen, clearing up. I take the last pull of the wine, emptying my glass. My head resting on my hand, and wrapped up warm with a blanket, I cover another yawn before the fire fades to black.